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# i am absolutely obsessed with this comparison

sweatyflytrap · 2 months

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something must be said how absolutely two time divorced, fighting alcoholism at the verge of bankrupty core nando looks in pink

and how absolutely beautiful princess babygirl pookie bear lance looks in pink

pink booties and another picture I found way too pretty to just ignore

#i refuse to look at more pictures from that alpine era #it's shockingly horrible #and I care about my health #I am. horribly obsessed with how beautiful lance looks in pink #like GOD #also the hair from his sceond year #absolutely prince charming coded #so many gifs make me wanna just squish him #these are perfect comparisons because I am lazy and horrible at research that will not be graded #not*#strollonso #I guess

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firestorm09890 · 2 years

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thinking about how in the original GBA Chain of Memories, when Axel gives Vexen the Destiny Islands card he says “A wild card to keep the game fresh. Now don’t tell me I don’t respect my elders.” and then it comes back around later in Vexen’s death cutscene, where Axel says “NOW you can tell me I don’t respect my elders” as his last cocky one-liner before he fucking murks Vexen but then in Re:CoM it’s changed to “A humble gift to my elder. I hope you use it to put on a very good show for us.” when Axel gives Vexen the card and then Axel’s attitude during the Vexen death cutscene is completely different from the original version, with absolutely no mention of the “elder” line like why’d they do that

#kingdom hearts #chain of memories #axel #vexen #the inevitable re:com comparison tag #if anyone actually sees this post I want you to know #I am deeply obsessed with the script changes between the og chain of memories and the remake #I'm bad with words so explaining the minute differences in tone that occur with every ltitle change is very hard but brain go brrrrrrrrr #something about how removing the callback makes axel's false sincerity a little muddier #or something like that #i mean a lot of script changes in re:com toned down axel's absolute shitheaded bastardry from gba com #probably to make his transition to antihero and then to hero make a little more sense #but that's a topic for another time #me post

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dawnbringerjoan · 7 months

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I am so so obsessed with Gale's romance because God it's so clear he worships your Tav through it and it's absolutely horrifying.

His love through so much of the game is in *spite* of himself. Is in abject hatred of himself. He is holding guilt and shame and self loathing so bad he'd rather unmake himself into something that the Tav never loved in the name of some notion of "deserving" because Gale is *so* broken by Mystra even still that he thinks he must earn Tav's love. That he must make himself *worthy* of all that Tav has to offer.

Do you know how horrifying that is? To realise the person you love would destroy themselves for you, in some desperate attempt to please you, and with it take away everything you loved about them and they ask you to be happy with it?

Gale lays at Tav's feet a love that is built on worship, on looking at the Tav as divine. And it's not until the VERY end and you being really patient and stubborn does he begin to see Tav as a person. And that's horrific. He loves you so much he'd destroy himself.

He has placed you in the same spot as Mystra, but you are no all powerful Goddess, you do not spin magic along with a wave of your hand and seeking to mould him. You are a person. A person who is flawed and human (in the personhood sense of the word). A person who he does not have to prove himself for. Unmake himself for. At that point, he doesn't love Tav, he loves the idea he's made of Tav. And this idea, it's been built at his own expense. He's hurting, he blames himself, so even in the love that requires no proving oneself, no supplication, no means to *earn* it he takes it upon himself to make himself "deserving" and maybe he'll finally be content with himself if he just gets enough power, makes himself better, makes himself someone who is not him.

Because he hates himself.

And that is so heartbreaking to watch, because it's so very clear he has had zero time to heal. You are in love with a deeply suicidal depressed man, who would rather watch himself burn than accept your love for him as it is. Whole and human, with no notion of "deserving". The foundations of the love he has for Tav are so so unhealthy. And I love it. I love him. I want him to get better. It's so sad we don't get to see more Gale Dekarios in the game. He's so interesting in comparison to "Gale of Waterdeep" and I'm glad he has a chance to go back to it.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #bg3 tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 meta

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lovebugism · 1 year

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i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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pucksandpower · 1 year

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Max Verstappen x Miss Universe!Reader - Social Media AU

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 y/n is the kindest, smartest, most beautiful, and most compassionate person i know. there is no one more deserving of being Miss Universe. i am so proud of you, schatje. the crown pales in comparison to the way you shine each and every day

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yourusername there is no greater gift than experiencing all of this with you by my side. love you forever

danielricciardo never a doubt from the second she got on the stage

yourusername thank you dany 💕

landonorris does that make you mister universe?

madmaxstan asking the real questions

f1fan8 i’m actually so obsessed with you guys

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 1,758,214 others

yourusername tonight we learned that i’m the better driver in this relationship

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maxverstappen1 identity theft isn’t a joke

redbullracing where should we send the contract?

missuniverse if you’re taking our title holder does that mean we get to take your driver?

yourusername i’ll drive in barcelona and max can fill in for my photoshoot next weekend. he just has to learn how to walk in heels and we’re all set

yourfan5 what can’t y/n do??? a true queen

f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates Reigning Miss Universe Y/N Y/L/N joined boyfriend Max Verstappen and sponsor TAG Heuer at the Monaco Grand Prix

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pageantgirl the fact that y/n was invited in her own capacity because Miss Universe is partnered with TAG Heuer … it’s fate

f1wagupdates and how proud they look of each other in every pic I’ve seen 🫠

orangearmygirl i remember them walking in together for max’s debut race. they’ve come so far 🥺

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, missuniverse, and 1,863,429 others

yourusername there’s something about the monaco air

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maxverstappen1 my date planning abilities have improved

yourusername it’s true. 10/10, no notes

landonorris pretty sure that something is just called max living there

yourusername yeah that certainly helps

missuniverse absolutely gorgeous 👑

maxandy/nfan the way max makes y/n laugh. i want that one day

f1fan3 they singlehandedly made me believe in love. they’ve been together for years and still look at each other like they’re the only person in the world

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blackholeunderyourbed · 9 months

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So I just finished watching the second season of Heartstopper and I’m just as obsessed with it as the first season if not moreso, and there’s so much I could and want to say about it, but if there’s anything I am really pleased with how they handled, it’s Ben.

I love the comics, but something that bothers me about them is the way Ben sexually assaulting Charlie doesn’t really come up again for the most part. The incident is cited when Charlie’s therapist is talking about all the things that have happened to fuel his need to find control via eating, but it’s more or less forgotten otherwise and not really treated as a major thing that happened even though it absolutely was.

Although last season did an amazing job showing the impact of Ben’s treatment on Charlie’s self-esteem and mental health, it also didn’t touch much on the assault and more or less brushed it off. I was really glad that this season Nick directly referred to it as an assault and it was given more weight.

Even with that though, I was a bit afraid that when Ben admitted that he can’t come out to his parents, he would be forgiven to an extent, and I really should have learned from my fears during last season to trust the process. The abuse Ben put Charlie through, both emotionally and the assault, is given proper weight, which I’m grateful for. Even after Charlie stood up to Ben last season, it was still so so satisfying to see him recognize in the moment how Ben was still trying to manipulate him with his apology, which like all the apologies before has only been about himself.

One of my favorite elements about that confrontation, though, was Ben admitting that he did genuinely like Charlie. Given how he tried to tear down and maintain control over Charlie by denying liking him in the first season, I believe that that at least is meant to be genuine, even if he’s only seeking forgiveness for his own consciousness and not because he’s learned anything, wants to make things right, or is even sincerely sorry. I appreciated that note of honesty specifically because Charlie’s response illustrates the very important lesson that the weight of how someone feels about you pales in comparison to the weight of how they treat you. If the behavior of someone who feels love for you is indistinguishable from someone who doesn’t, those feelings mean nothing.

It’s just another brilliant moment of the big theme surrounding the dichotomy between Nick and Ben: it’s not about being out or having everything figured out, but about the treatment, and only one of them every treated loving Charlie as something they needed to do.

Love is a verb.

#Heartstopper #heartstopper tv #heartstopper spoilers #heartstopper tv spoiler #charlie spring #nick nelson #ben hope #heartstopper season 2 #osemanverse #heartstopper comic

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Butterfly II

a/n some of you wanted a part two of this so here we go. This can be read as a standalone. I am just a tiny bit obsessed with this. Thank you for so much love, I really wasn't expecting it. 🤍

summary: When Joel thinks that his life is over his little butterfly sends him a new reason to stay alive. The only problem is that he doesn't know how to love but when you are the meaning of love itself how can he not fall.

Part III is on my blog!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It almost felt like you were floating. The warmth and soft sheets surrounded your body, and the mattress beneath you was an absolute dream in comparison to a makeshift box bed or the sleeping bag on the ground. Maybe this was a dream after all? Considering that you could almost make out the birds chirping outside. The bright morning sun hit your face through the crack in the messily closed blinds. The ray of light leaves warm kisses on your skin. When was the last time you felt so at peace? Without the primal urge to survive rushing through your body.

You tried to tilt your head to the side, hoping to escape the beaming light but found no luck there. Lazily opening one eye, you took in the room in front of you. A frown washed over your face. You did not remember getting up to the bedroom last night. Had you been that tired? Your leg nudged something on the other side of the bed, and you instantly shot up as the fight or flight mode went off. Heart racing.

"Easy, easy… You're okay, everything's okay", Joel's groggy morning voice filled your ears, and your shoulders slumped in the instant. As you took a breath in, your hand came to rest on your chest. Joel's fingers slipped to run up and down your exposed thigh as he tried to soothe the rush of anxiety that he felt seeping through you. His eyes were still closed; the sun was dancing on his exposed chest now. Yeah, maybe you were dreaming.

"Bad dream?", he mumbled again, pulling you out of your little daydream. You shook your head even if you knew he couldn't see it, "No, I just didn't expect you…here", "You act like we haven't shared a bed". You let out a huff, pushing his rough palm off your leg. The corner of Joel's lips turned upward. "It's not about that, it's just a… I usually know that we will be in bed together here, so I figured you might… never mind," you muttered quickly.

Back in QZ, where you shared an apartment with one bed, sleeping in it together was a no-brainer. Well, Joel had given up his bed to you first, moving to sleep on the sofa instead. However, he did not spend a single night there. The guilt of him getting a bad back because of you made you drag him to bed in the middle of the night. It was a blanket line at first that split the bed, but even that didn't stick around for long as you found yourself waking up with your fingers reaching out for Joel or clenching his shirt in your sleep. Maybe simply seeking comfort, maybe out of sheer fear of waking up alone.

"Lay down and stop thinking so loudly," Joel's hands pulled you closer to him, and you let him as you rested your head on his chest. Fingers instantly reached up to run over the lines of scars that covered his body. In the beginning, he would catch your wrist with his hand, pushing it away from his skin, but now… Now he said and did nothing to stop you, allowing you to do your thing.

"Did you bring me here last night?", you questioned quietly, feeling bad for disturbing his slumber. Joel only hummed, "You fell asleep on the sofa." You remembered watching Ellie flip through the books you had found in the attic. Cup of tea by her side that you made her in hopes of making her nighttime anxiety ease up. You watched her with a fond smile on your face. Truly, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing a child experience something new, and Ellie, just like all the other kids, was robbed of a normal childhood. So you were more than happy to bring at least a drop of normality to her. Your head was resting on Joel's shoulder as he, too, sipped the tea you had made.

"This shit is nasty, why would you write a book about dating?", Ellie turned a romantic novel in her hands, making you let out a tired chuckle. "Eh, that was one of my favorites. Wait till you get to my age. Fictional men are like no other", you snorted, just managing to hear Joel do the same as he brought the cup closer to his lips again. Looking up, you already find him glancing down at you.

"No way, Bill had comic books?!", the girl shrieked, making you jump slightly at the loud noise as she pushed the box over, making everything spill all over the carpet. Joel squeezed your shoulder slightly, "Lay down." He patted the pillow that was on his lap, but you shook your head, "Not tired. Don't worry". But the man wasn't having any of it and gently moved you to lie down. You tried to protest at first, but Joel only silenced you as he started running his hand through your hair. That was when you realized just how insanely tired you were. Your hand squeezed his thigh, a silent thank you as you felt your eyes getting heavy.

Joel's eyes stayed on you. Watching as sleep took over your body. How you lost the fight to slumber, and your body slowly eased up You twitched a couple of times. A usual practice for you that Joel had grown familiar with. You, just like him, had nightmares clouding your brain. And your body hated the sensation of sleeping, trying to fight off the state of unconsciousness for as long as possible. No one could protect you in your dreams. Not even Joel - even if he wanted to.

"You like her," Ellie said, causing Joel to raise his head. He had somehow forgotten that she was here too, lulled by your somewhat peaceful features. He wouldn't have let his guard down so low otherwise. This side of him was only for his own eyes and no one else's. His face instantly shifted to a tight smile, replacing the calm features. "Don't shove your nose into other people's business," he said bitterly, hoping that Ellie would feel ashamed and drop her gaze, but she didn't. "But you do. I can see it", "What do you know about it, kid", Joel bite back harshly, but you had shifted on his thigh as if even in your sleep sending him a warning to watch his tone. The girl shrugged her shoulders, "Not much, but you always watch her, and it's kind of creepy, but also she does the same, so", Ellie trailed off, returning to making piles of the books instead. Joel wanted to snarl something out, but it was true. He was always watching over you. And he loved nothing more than catching your gaze, taking you off guard at times.

"Go to bed, it's late", Joel said, carefully shifting to scoop you up in his arms, "I'm not tired", Ellie voiced, and Joel only inhaled sharply, "That's what Y/N said as well, look at her now". Ellie watched as you clung to Joel, even in your sleep. She watched as he walked towards the stairs, once again shushing you as you muttered something in your sleep. She followed you up to her room, which was a door away from the one Joel carried you to. You had asked her if she wanted to have a room all to herself for a couple of days that you were here. Since she had never had the pleasure of it, she of course agreed to it. But now that Ellie looked at the dark space in front of her, she realized how much more she preferred being able to press herself closer to you as you slept in the sleeping bag.

Joel had walked out not even ten minutes later after he was sure that you were sleeping and comfortable. Ellie was standing in front of her bedroom door, staring into the distance. "Why aren't you in bed yet?", Joel called out, making her jump. "It's dark," she muttered under her breath. The distress in her body language was visible. "Well, it's nighttime, so of course, it's dark," Joel said, waiting for her to come at him, but she just tightened her hands into fists. He often thought that this was unfair. That Ellie had to go through so much at such a young age. He understood why you grew so protective of her and why Ellie clung to you at any moment that her ability, to pretend that she feared nothing at all, failed her. Joel let out a sigh as he walked into the dark room, quickly finding a light switch before moving towards the bedside table. Ellie watched him from the hallway still. She watched how Joel pulled the table to the furthest corner of the room, before putting a lamp into it. It was far enough away to not disturb sleep, but bright enough to illuminate every corner of the room.

"Jump into bed, Ellie," Joel said calmly, and Ellie almost thought that she was imagining the soft sound. Well, she heard it when Joel talked to you. His tone was barely bitter then, but… She nodded her head as she rushed to get under the covers. She expected to watch Joel leave, but instead, he walked toward the bed before sitting down at the end of it. "Go to sleep," Joel repeated, "But why… what are you doing?", the girl croaked out, trying not to let the stinging in her eyes show. Just like Joel, she hid her emotions behind the wall. Only slip-ups happened when she was with you. "You have nothing to fear. I'll be here till you fall asleep, and then Y/N and I are a door away," Joel said, watching as Ellie looked around the room. A glimpse of Sarah filled his mind. She nodded her head, but the tension didn't leave her body as she clenched the blanket in her hands. Joel wasn't sure who or what made him do it, but he moved closer to Ellie. The memories of him introducing Sarah to her new room and how she hated it the first night swirled around.

"Want to… want to hold my hand?", it felt weird saying it, and Joel even got embarrassed, but then he sensed Ellie shifting as she clung to him. Joel's gaze softened when he saw a tear glistening in the dim light on her cheek. "You're safe here. We will always keep you safe, kiddo." And he stayed there till she fell asleep, and then some more. Watching her or just zoning out as he thought about Sarah. The same way he shushed you as you spoke in your sleep, Joel shushed Ellie. Guiding her out of her bad dreams and into a peaceful slumber.

When he finally slipped out of Ellie's room and went to check on you, Joel knew that he wasn't going to find sleep anytime soon. After pulling the blanket further up your shoulder, Joel moved towards the window, quickly checking if it was tightly shut. Then the same thing happened in Ellie's room. He walked all around the second floor, checking the doors and windows, before moving downstairs and doing the same. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel could still hear Ellie's voice as she read out Bill's letter. We have a job to do, and God help any motherfucker who stands in our way.

The feeling of your fingers scratching Joel's scalp brought him back to the sunny room, and he finally opened his eyes. "Was she okay sleeping without us?", you moved up, pushing yourself against Joel's chest, and he shook his head, already hating the worried look that washed over you. "I stayed with her till she fell asleep and checked on her through the night," he said so casually as if it were a self-explanatory thing, but his words made your heart clench. You knew how difficult such interactions were for him, how many demons from his past he had to choke out for that to become a reality.

You leaned in, brushing your nose against his before wrapping your hands around his neck. Joel's arms sneaked around your waist, fingertips moving just slightly under the big shirt you were wearing. "You know that she will never forget that, right?", you muttered into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for doing that", "I wasn't going to leave her all alone," Joel said firmly, and you pulled away slightly. Of course, he wasn't. Because he cared. Cared more than he wanted to admit it, and even more than he knew himself. You two were inches apart. You could feel his breath on your skin. Warm and inviting. This felt intimate, not like most of the sexual interactions you two shared, which were mostly there to get rid of the primal needs.

You moved to slip off Joel's chest, but his grip on your hips only tightened. "Joel..", you breathed out. Fuck, did he love hearing his name roll off your tongue. There was always this beam of light with love in it. It didn't sound as harsh or scary as it did when others said it. No, when you said Joel's name, he knew there was nothing but happiness there. And you proved just that when a soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you leaned back toward him. "I just want to make your coffee," you said as you twirled your figures through his hair, hoping to reason with him to let you go. "We can go if you want a cup," but you shook your head, pointing a finger to his chest, "You will stay in bed, sir, and let me bring it up for you."

The only person who had done this before—brought him coffee, even if it was with a scrunched-up nose—had been Sarah. The gleam in your eyes made it hard for him to say no. So he did what he had been doing for years. Joel let go of you, watching as you quickly shimmied out of bed. He hated that this felt natural. This felt right. He fucking wanted to start his days like this. Even more so, he knew that this was temporary. A day or two and you would be out in the wilderness, where at any moment a runner or a clicker could get either of you infected. Joel wished you could just stay here. Forget about all the other promises and just stay here in this surreal reality.

Seeing you with a cup of coffee in your hand and messy hair falling everywhere, even if you tried to control them with a quick braid and that smile, made Joel's head spin. That smile had dampened him and left him defenseless. "Careful, it's really hot", you handed Joel a cup as he sat down, resting his back against the headboard. "Did you sleep at all?", you spoke up again, crisscrossing your legs as you looked up at Joel, all of a sudden noticing his tired eyes. He slowly nodded his head, yet you could tell that he was elsewhere.

You were about to nudge him about staying in bed all day and finally getting proper rest when you heard a silent knock on the door before it cracked open, and you saw Ellie standing there. Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, you smiled at her, patting the side of the bed. Her eyes drifted to Joel, but since he paid her no attention, she stepped inside. Curling up on your lap like a cat in front of the sun on the windowsill. "Morning, sleepyhead, did you rest well?", you pushed some of the messy strands of hair away from her face as she flashed you a smile, yet her eyes were still closed.

You pulled your blanket over her body, slowly tracing your hand up and down her back, and almost immediately you heard light snoring. Raising your eyebrows, you looked toward Joel, "She fell asleep again." You giggled, carefully swaying from side to side with her in your embrace. Joel's eyes fell on you, but they were nothing like they were moments ago. You reached your hand out to touch him, but he quickly got out of bed. "Get to the garage when she's up; we need to talk about the next step." You frowned slightly, unsure of what this was about, but still nodded your head.

Joel sat by the table, his chin resting on his knuckles as he stared ahead. His brain was racing. This was all too good. Too much. He was losing his clear mind. Tiredness—it was all because of tiredness, he told himself as he waited for you two. That's why a man like you and I are here. Joel needed to remind himself of his main job here. To remind himself of what had happened before. What had happened to Sarah. Joel heard you two before you opened the door. Ellie was talking so quickly that you were probably laughing at her, yet it died down the moment you stepped into the garage.

Joel met your confused eyes but dropped the gaze in an instant. "I think it's best if we leave tomorrow morning," he spoke up coldly. No reason's why. Or what had changed. Just a plain, cold statement. "What?", you choked out, walking closer to him. "It's best if we keep moving," Joel insisted again.

This was not what you imagined hearing this morning. Even more so when the morning started so sweet. "Where is this coming from? I thought we were going to stay here for a couple of days," you questioned again, feeling Ellie's hand slip into yours. "We're getting too comfortable; the word behind the fence is nothing like this," Joel grumbled angrily, not meeting your eyes for even a second. That in itself was starting to annoy you.

"Joel… we talked about this. We stay for a couple of days, regain our strength, all of us, and then…", but a harsh slam on the metal table made you stop mid-sentence. "Then what?", Joel spat, "What, Y/N? You're getting too attached. This is not our reality. We're wasting time to deliver cargo." Joel's words left you defenseless as you stared at him, not quite. believing your ears. You knew that he could be an ass at times, but this.

"Shit," Ellie cursed under her breath, and you instantly pushed her behind you. "Right, because she is nothing to you. Because you're this cold and fucked up male", you spat back, as nodded your head, "It blows my mind the way you dispose of people…". Laughing under your breath, you tried to find words to say. Still in disbelief that he was changing the plan for selfish reasons. Just because he didn't do happy.

"Fuck you, Miller. I've been trying so hard, but you know what? Fuck it. Get us there and fuck off!", the sound of your voice made Joel clench his jaw. He would have much more enjoyed you screaming than hearing the disappointment that poured from you. Joel looked up at you, but now you seemed miles away. Had he finally done it? Finally made you give up on him. "Yn," he called out quietly, but you only shook your head, "Don't you Y/N me. Come Ellie bug, let's get our stuff", you turned to Ellie, who was standing behind a woodworking table. All way pressed up against the corner like a lost puppy.

"Don't," Joel caught your hand as it reached for the girl, but you yanked it away from his grasp in an instant. Your eyes filled up with tears, but you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to pull yourself together. You'll cry later. In the shower, maybe. Behind the house. Anywhere but in front of him. You reached Ellie, bringing her into your embrace, as you guided her toward the door. You were about to step out when you stopped and turned to Joel one last time, mumbling, "There's no us, by the way. You're alone in this Miller", with that you pushed the door closed harshly, making your way towards the house as you dabbed your cheeks dry so Ellie wouldn't worry even more. Butterflies weren't meant to live a long time. Maybe it's better to live from sunrise to sunset and die before the world beats you down without any mercy.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader

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yandere-wishes · 2 months

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Who are your fav authors on here, why and what are your fav fics from them?

Anon, I don't think you're aware of the beast you've just unleashed!

So strap in cause this is going to be long.

Right off the bat, we have, @thefudge. I'm trying so hard not to sound like a deranged fangirl right now. But trust me when I say that I am OBSESSED with every single thing they write! I have read their fics SO SO many times and It's impossible to pick a single favorite one. So here are my top 5

Waiting for the barbarians

Within you is everything I am

I won't be these clothes I burn

His little dead wife

god complex

Honestly, guys go check out their work they have so many stories spanning countless fandoms. They're literally the ones that got me into Star Wars in the first place! @thefudge I SWEAR I'm not a crazy fangirl, I just really love your writing and works!!

@yandere-romanticaa goes without saying, I've been a HUGE fan of Ana's since literally forever. She was actually one of the Yandere blogs that inspired me to start writing on Tumblr. Again I can't pick just one of her works I love so here's a top 5 list

Wanna Be yours

Yandere! William Moriarty

Yandere! Miguel O'hara

Yandere! Nikolai #1 and #2

Yandere! Dazai comparisons

She writes for so many fandoms and updates very frequently. She's also such an amazing and fun person so hearing her stories is always a treat!! Love you lots bestie!!

@fragileheartbeats is another amazing author I love her frigid aesthetic and how it adds a layer of etherealness to all her stories. Her scenarios are magical and written in such a way they evoke such sweet feelings. Honestly reading her stories makes me feel like I'm wrapped in a blanket with hot chocolate watching as the snow silently falls outside.

Cute little things that melt their hearts (jjk)

White Swan (jjk)

How it feels to be loved by them (jjk)

First kiss (jjk)

When they become dads (jjk)

These five are my TOP FAV works from her they're honestly so well-written and utterly adorable!! Guys I'm not kidding go follow her, she is literally my wify!!

@irresistible-revolution

I'm new to their work. BUT "A Coffin Made of Glass" is so beautifully written. It's dead dove yet so utterly bewitching. It takes place in the space between famous Star Wars scenes and gives a more in-depth view of the character's actions and sentiments.

@spacexseven, omg where do I even begin? Okay, so they just have such a natural way with words. Their stories flow SO smoothly it's honestly astonishing! They've written two Childe fics, "Broken Vows" and "Mandatory Obligations" that I'm wholly obsessed with. The dialogue they write also feels so natural and forthcoming, it's absolutely enticing!!

@rrairey another author whose work I've recently gotten into!! If you're a Sukuna fan then her blog is the place to go.

Love

Sukuna vs Plushie (a literal BANGER!!)

Gojo vs Plushie

Trust

Bracelet

Seriously, go check out her work!! The way she writes dialogue between the characters and the reader is so utterly perfect. It makes you feel as if you are right there saying those exact words. The scenarios (although) fictional feel so real thanks to her wonderful writing style.

@dear-yandere needs no introduction, she's a staple in the yandere community. Her stories always blend love and creepiness to a perfect extent. Can I take a moment to just appreciate how poetic and GORGEOUS all her stories are?? Like seriously!! "Almost god" is my favorite fanfic of ALL TIME!! And don't even get me started on "Cry for Me"!!

This turned out long I don't think anyone was expecting an essay. To be honest I consume more fanfics than published books nowadays so I guess it's a given to have such a long list.

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Text

just seen this random post come across my feed abt the men who whimper or moan a lot and I am now feral bc they so would!

cw: squirting, overstimulation, choking, back-shots, breeding

imagine him gripping your waist, tugging you back against him with each stroke..your soft, round ass ricocheting off of the bone of his pelvis and chiseled v-line. It’s the most beautiful view he’s ever seen, honestly; only rivaled by that of the pearl colored cream emitting from your warmth, slathering his shaft. His fingernails pressed into the soft flesh intersecting your hip and thighs as he relentlessly slams his cock inside of you..

“Baeeee!—fuck..”

the words escaped your lips but didn’t resonate to his ears. In fact, he was so far lost..immersed so deeply in the sensation of your sex. So much so, that his eyes are squeezed shut, head tossed back and mouth agape.

his hands are enclosed around your wrists; pulling both arms back while he’s drilling your shit. Those big, full balls are slamming vehemently against your spasming hole; this motion speeding up along with those deep strokes he keeps feeding that sopping pussy.

there are so many noises..so many mellifluous sounds filling the bedroom but they all pale in comparison to one in particular:

“Oh shitttt!—‘feels so fucking gooood!”

the high pitched, guttural moans escaping his throat, growing louder by the second. His Adam’s apple moving in reaction. You would’ve never guessed that such a sound even came from a big, muscular six foot something man but being buried hilt deep inside of that slippery, slick filled cunt for almost an hour was taking its toll.

the two of you had been going rounds; fucking like absolute animals in every position possible. Tearing the room up with your ravenous lovemaking. The bedsheets are soaked in puddles as a result of him making you squirt like a fountain.

even after all that dick he’s giving you, you’re still gripping so firmly..

“ ‘S so fucking wet..oh my—you just keep creaming on my dick like that..”

by this time, he’s even fucking his own cum out of you after filling you full of nut for the second time only fifteen minutes ago.

needless to say, you were at your limits; damn near overstimulated at this point but it’d be a cold day in hell before he stops fucking you! It feels too heavenly to even dream of pulling out.

he wants to stay in it..live in that pussy if it were possible. But for now, burrowing himself over your entire frame, falling into collapsed back-shots would have to suffice. You can’t even let out screams anymore, forced only to make contorted faces and let tears fall but to him, they are still so beautiful.

not to worry though..because he’s making enough for the both of you! This grown man whimpering like a little puppy as he finally loses his rhythm. He can’t even keep up anymore. That tip consistently poking at your most sensitive spot, prompting you to bury your face into the pillow.

this seems to be his motivator for the final stride..and of course that amazing arch you’re somehow maintaining.

knowing how much you despise having your hair pulled and messed up, he suffices by clutching his fingers across the front of your throat. Tugging you back up with drool seeping from your mouth whilst he fucks you completely dumb.

there’s not one single thought coming across your mind right now and he’s pretty much broke your brain and body.

you’re practically begging and pleading with him to come so you can both have relief but you know it’s futile to even suggest such a thing.

“I-I can’t stop, baby! Gotta..come in this fucking pussyyy.”

his words slurred as if he was intoxicated but he’s merely only pussy drunk; obsessed and immersed deep in the mixture between your thighs.

but sadly, he can no longer maintain his pace and you feel that pressure in the pit of your stomach begin to throb as well..before you know it, those sweet moans begin to sound like full blown cries and unbeknownst, droplets swollen from his eyes on each side of his face fall.

he’s finally done it: fucked himself to literal tears! But it wouldn’t have been possible without your fat, tight and gushing center cradling him for this long. So it’s only right that he rewards you properly..

“GAH! SHIT—(y/n)..BABY—“

you feel that intense pounding come to a halt and his grip on the small of your back become a lot tighter.

giving him that final push to finally stop, you cry in a faint voice of your own, able to tilt your head up in his direction:

“…come for me, baby boy..put that nut all in my pussy..”

there was no need to tell him twice and with what was only followed by an ear shattering scream, he pours the remainder of his seed into that inviting womb. Not even thinking about it giving a damn about what may follow..he just wants to empty those balls and let you milk him for everything he has.

“Shit! Shit..“

he’s fully aware of how pathetic he may look or sound at the moment but you’re the only one who can coax this side from him and for that, he’s not ashamed.

collapsing atop your back, completely drained and flushed..he peppers kisses down your neck and spine, constantly telling you how much he loves you; even gracious for letting him have your body in such a way..

you’re barely conscious and so is he but he just has to tell you one last thing before your inevitable collapse.

you feel his tears dripping against your heated skin and his lips brushing your earlobe, whispering gently..the quietest you’ve heard him all night:

“..thank you for letting me be so vulnerable. Sorry I got so carried away.”

but he has nothing to apologize for because you wanted to hear and make him feel that good all the time.

__________________________________________________

portgas d. ace, aran oijiro, tengen uzui, eren jaeger, taiga kagami, armin artlert, keigo takami, connie springer, shikamura nara, gintoki sakata, ichigo kurosaki

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just-null-cult · 7 months

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your yan!noritoshi is so wisnwonwpwjw RAAAHHHH going absolutely feral ... i want him . ive had so many thoughts abt him as like a yandere n then i saw your art n absolutely lost it /pos

IM ALL EARS, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!

GOD FUCK OKAY, HOLD ON, I ALSO HAVE SOME RAMBLES AND THOUGHTS ABOUT YANDERE NORITOSHI BUT IM GOING TO PUT THEM UNDER THE CUT.

I AM IN NO WAY RESPONSIBLE FOR UNLEASHING MY TJOUGHTS OFFICER. IT WAS MY GLORIOUS CULT MEMBER RIGHT HERE.

MERRY OCTOBER YALL

[disclaimer: im not a writer, but I want to get better. think of this as my practice. it ended up being so fucking long, but i swear it's just rambles, not a fic]

[warning for blood under the cut? keep that in mind for future posts]

OKAY LETS GO.

Bro ok so. if I'm not too delusional (yet) and don’t see him as a yandere, then this guy (Noritoshi) is still a strict fuck. he'd put you on the same level of importance as his clan if not a bit higher. but only by a bit. Your relationship would gradually bloom into something meaningful to him that he’d cherish you wholeheartedly. Only then would you grow in importance to Noritoshi significantly. He'd keep his resolve and all those healthy green flags. Because honestly? Noritoshi is just a green flag, he's so sweet..

But let's twist that into a yandere setting. I don't even need to twist too much, Noritoshi as a yandere is way too fitting.

Noritoshi was abandoned by his mother as a child, thereby fueling his lifelong goals to do as she said and bring her back. He didn't even think on his own accord, nor did he try to find a different way, or even follow her! He accepted his fate and made it his mission to accomplish the goal he was given. Despite the intense pressure of his worth being determined by an ability he was born with and the high expectations from the Kamo clan, he perseveres. That is until [spoilers] Noritoshi is exiled by his clan because of some Kenajku shit. All his hard work and future goals were ripped away from him without a second thought in an instant. Noritoshi was always the second thought time and time again, and now left as a man with nothing but the failure of his desired future.

That wasn't even the yandere part, that was all canon, what the fuck.

Yandere Noritoshi is the type to cling to scraps... He reminds me of an obsessive and protective yandere. obsessive about you because you become his everything.. his goal, his will to keep going, the light at the end of the tunnel. he wants all of you, from the best parts of you to your worst. He's also protective, because he cant handle losing yet another person so important to him. He'd rather tear himself apart than lose you.

He also seems mostly self-aware but can overthink to the point of delusion. For example, you pat him on the back and tell him he did a great job on something. He knows it's nothing to dwell on, but why does he feel like there's more to your words? Should he read in between the lines? but there's only one line! From then on, his mind would reel until he landed on a favorable conclusion. You meant that he was the only one who did great. The others paled in comparison in your eyes therefore you must favor Noritoshi in some way.. right?

Since Noritoshi was pretty deprived of any emotional support, you won't even have to try too hard to get his heart thumping. If you were to give him even just a bit more attention and care than the average person, like making sure he's eating alright or remarking that he's paler than usual after restocking his blood bags, he's hooked. He's self-aware enough to realize his blooming fondness for you is one-sided, so he simply admires you. that is, at the start. Note that Noritoshi is still new to these feelings so he's.. awkward. It's really cute.

Though these moments were cute to you, they slowly became horribly blissful to Noritoshi. Poor you, completely unaware of how you're slowly corrupting him in, what he thinks, is the best way possible just by giving him your attention. He thinks you're the last and only person still believing in him, so much so that everything and everyone else slowly becomes minuscule in the grand seam of things. He feels happy around you, like he matters, like he has someone to trust, like he has someone who won't abandon him. Because of this, he sees you as a new goal. A new hope. Failing you is not an option. Disappointing you is not an option. Hell, even a frown from you is unacceptable in his eyes.

Noritoshi tries to cling to you at this point in his own way... He enjoys it when you speak to him, or even sit next to him, so much so that he seeks you out when you're not there. You'd feel eyes boring holes into the back of your head, a sense of being followed, sometimes seeing your shadow accompanied by another, every time you turn around to be surprised by a familiar face. His footsteps are so quiet that you barely notice Noritoshi walking around.

Unfortunately, due to Noritoshi’s inexperience, the only way he knows how to impress people is by being “perfect” a.k.a. his strict, pain in the ass, annoying heir shtick. He would be the type to get on your case, scold, coddle, nitpick, correct you, and practically look like he's trying to bully you when in reality he's trying to hear praise from you for "helping" you. He’s waiting for you to see the affection and adoration behind his nagging, is he not being obvious enough? oh well, at least your eyes are on him for now. When most people in Noritoshi's life have either put him second or flat-out abandoned him, he's satisfied with anything he can get from you. Though he'd prefer praise, the thought of your attention being given to another even for a second makes his stomach feel like it's tying in knots, so he settles for your annoyed tuts and glares.

Of course, after a while, you'd get tired of this and tell him to knock it off. Or some variation of what a decent human being would do like, “Do whatever you want, but don't meddle in people's business.”

You KNOW he's going to be picking that apart in the middle of the night while looking up at the ceiling. What did you mean by that? Do you mean ANYTHING he wants? As long as he doesn’t bother anyone? Were you talking about yourself and everyone in general? Were you talking about someone specific? Did you leave it up for him to decide? Thoughts and questions circle in his head until he twists your words enough into something that he favors again. Ah, you allow him to do whatever he wants so long as he doesn't get in your way. But he wants to be alongside you... Did you mean in your way to the point of annoyance? Noted. From then on, Noritoshi's strictness softened into light nagging and bearable hovering. He'd knock it off completely through gritted teeth and furrowed brows if you threatened him with the silent treatment. He'll slowly start it up again until you begin ignoring him, only then will he get the hint and relax a bit. only until next time, of course.

The intensity of Noritoshi's coddling can fluctuate depending on your actions. (recklessness, obedience, shyness, etc.) it's his love language.

It's a completely different story if someone else decides to nag you as Noritoshi does... If someone scolds you, Noritoshi's on the offense. He's known for his occasional bluntness and sassy remarks, but this time... He's contradicting himself all in an attempt to get the other person to back away. If the one scolding you brings up points Noritoshi used in the past, he firmly denies them all and stands by your side. He'd rather sound hypocritical than let someone else care for you the way he does. Noritoshi stands in front of you, almost guarding you with his body and begins his barrage of deflective comments through his clenched jaw such as “That's not your place to say” “Shut it, they did no wrong.” “You don't know the reason why they did so, leave them alone.” and other things similar to that. Jeez, take your advice Noritoshi.. He’d argue and become antagonistic towards someone scolding you, even if it's exactly what he was about to do.

The same goes for someone who tries to be gentle with you to a lesser degree. It's nice that people see how wonderful you are, but having your smiles and kind words directed at anyone else other than Noritoshi is... Upsetting. The resentment gradually pools in the pit of his stomach and suddenly finds himself impulsively moving towards you and this "friend." He stands in between you and the kind person, trying his best to conceal his sneers. He wants nothing more than to have the third party get swallowed up by the ground or hit by a car, but he keeps his composure. Noritoshi sternly states how he’ll handle everything from then on and gives the third party a glare that's much more hateful than usual… Finally! Noritoshi has you to himself again! All is right in the world once more...

Noritoshi has always been on a very tight rope... Any wrong step and it’s going to snap. The more Noritoshi gets attached to you, the easier it is to convince himself that it's okay to cross certain lines to make sure you're safe with him. Even if that line he’s crossing, includes murder. It'd happen quicker if he caught feelings after the whole incident with the Kamo clan. You'd be the only thing he has left, the only thing he'd cling onto with every fiber of his being, emotionally and sometimes physically.

And like every fairy tale, a problem unconventionally shows itself much to Noritoshi's dismay... Noritoshi is shown to be prideful at times. Because of this, he'd try to conceal his more embarrassing emotions and reactions towards you. He wants to be seen as someone strong you can rely on, a steady pillar to your stability, someone who will do anything you wish at the drop of a hat, but it’s almost impossible to execute when he feels like he's nothing but putty in your hands at the slightest sign of positive reciprocation.

If Noritoshi felt his face heating up because your laugh caught him off guard, he'd turn his head to hide how that simple action made him nearly melt into mush. If your hand brushed against his, he'd quickly swipe it away. Not because he doesn't want to touch you, but because you'd feel how shaky and sweaty his palms got with just a graze. Noritoshi's gaze always lingers on his bow if you ever touch it causing his aim to decline in accuracy significantly.

He mentally curses himself out every time he pulls away from you because he knows he's sending mixed signals. Noritoshi loves you endlessly, but please spare his fragile heart. Your presence overwhelms him like no other, and he's utterly conflicted on how to act. He can handle being by your side like he wants, but the second your 100% focus is on him and only him, he’ll start to squirm under your gaze. Noritoshi wants to impress you! Stop being so mesmerizing for just a second so he can gather his thoughts and not embarrass himself! A-ah, but don't look away!!!

Tl;dr Noritoshi as a yandere is needy and petty as hell, but will explode if he gets an ounce of affection! He’s also! A creepy hopeless romantic who sends you mixed signals!

#kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x reader #yandere kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi kamo x reader #yandere noritoshi kamo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #i love the energy #the enthusiasm you have is a beautiful thing to see in someone #i also love yandere noritoshi #personally i like softer yanderes that wouldn't intentionally do harm to their darling #even then i doubt noritoshi would even hurt his darling at all #I WROTE SO FUCKING MUCH #RHHRJFG I WANT TO SAY MORE BUT ILL SAVE IT FOR FUTURE POSTS.#I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE THIS WASN'T JUST ME CURSING AND KEYBAORD MSASHING #yan noritoshi is also not above stalking. sending love letters. studying you. and all those definate green flags #WHY CANT I SHUT THE FUCK UP #ITS BC THIS TOPIC ENTERTAINS ME #TY ANON FOR BRINGING IT UP #SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #SHOUT OUT TO MY FRIEND LET ME TALK ABOUT THIS AND BOUNCED IDEAS BACK AND FORTH WITH ME THAT ONE TIME #I LOVE YOU FOREVER #now im not saying that every noritoshi in my entire blog is supposed to be seen as still yan noritoshi.. but if you were to think that.#i wouldnt deny it #yanderes arent insane all the time.. so think the cute stuff he does to be the dere... i need to draw the yan more often.. we'll get there.#and if youre wondering #NGL I ATE ON THIS DRAWING. FUCK. IT CAUSE MY PC TO FREEZE SO MANY TIMES BUT THE WORLD HAS TO KNOW ABT YAN NORITOSHI

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drakaripykiros130ac · 17 days

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do you expect TG to be even more whitewashed in next seasons? I certainly do. And I think I've already got an idea how Condal will do it. 1. Alicunt goes to Rhaenyra to beg for ceasing the war and/or dividing the realm so both Rhaenyra and Aegon can be rulers. Alicunt will imploringly beseech Rhaenyra with tears in her Big Doe Eyes™ and Rhaenyra harshly answers "no". They'll make Rhaenyra look like a power hungry, vicious tyrant just to get their point across 2. Aemond. Most (if not all) of his actions will be excused as "he didn't know better/he's just hot blooded, young and naive". Just like with accidently murdering Luke. And how will they do it? Two words: Alys Rivers. Yes, I fully expect them to make her the mastermind behind Strongs house annihilation and nuking Riverlands. She'll whisper into Aemond's ear that Strongs are traitors (her own personal revenge bc they treated her oh so bad) that he should show Riverlands his might etc.

I'm 100% sure it will happen

I agree with absolutely everything you mentioned.

Alicent gets a pass for everything because she is played by Olivia Cooke and the showrunners are absolutely obsessed with her (and when I say that, I mean her looks). And because Emma D’Arcy is not considered a conventional beauty in comparison, Rhaenyra, as a character, has to suffer.

Yes, I am 100% convinced they will make Alicent all holly and desperate to end the war (after she started it) by trying to convince Rhaenyra to divide the Realm and have both her and Aegon rule different parts of it (which is book canon, but the real Alicent’s intentions were far from noble at that point). They will certainly ignore how in canon, Alicent said terrible things about Rhaenyra’s children, like how bastard blood doesn’t matter and all that.

The showrunners also have an obsession with Aemond, as you pointed out. And in order to make him look good, they have to make Daemon look bad.

They invented the “bullying” storyline and how he just “accidently” killed Lucerys. In book canon, Aemond was a bloodthirsty psychopath with zero redeeming qualities (unlike Daemon), he committed numerous war crimes as a result of his rage and turned Alys Rivers into his sex slave after he murdered her whole family. But true, I’m not going to be surprised if they make Alys the mastermind behind all of Aemond’s actions in this war, just to make him look like a “poor innocent baby”.

Basically, everything the Greens do is a misunderstanding or an accident. Everything the Blacks do is intentional and cruel: that’s the showrunners’ whole play (and I can’t believe GRRM is letting them do whatever they want and turning this whole Dance into their personal Wattpad story).

#team black #pro team black #anti team green #anti aemond targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti aemond stans #anti alicent stans #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #alys rivers #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #queen rhaenyra #asoiaf meta #fire and blood #anti ryan condal #anti hotd #anti house of the dragon

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morose-marble · 3 months

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Incoherent ramble bc I have the brain worms about Apo

I am very annoying and also unwell, which is why I have taken to scrubbing through a not-insubstantial amount of episodes from Apo's lakorns (without subtitles) to form some kind of picture of what kind of roles he was cast in while employed by channel 3, and sending screen caps to literally anyone with a messaging app in my immediate social circle (they are in hell, thanks for asking). So, now that I have run out of people to torment with my obsessive tendencies, I am left with posting into the void on good ole tungle dot com.

So far, it seems that Apo's bread and butter was a wholesome, boy next door, nong type character (this is based on quite shaky interpretations of Sut Khaen Saen Rak, Buang Banjathorn, Chaat Payak and Prakasit Khammatep) with some exceptions, such as Tiang in Chat Suer Pun Mungkorn, a hot-headed young gangster. These aside, I have not yet formed a comprehensive understanding of his profile as an actor, as I can't seem to get my hands on some of the dramas at all.

The aforementioned roles were all supporting ones, and I could only find episodes for one of his two lead parts, that of Pong Khun Boon Jirakit in Pra Teap Rak Hang Jai, an enemies to lovers story(?). His character sells artisanal traditional Thai silk(?) and ends up falling for a rich woman (Preeyakarn Jaikanta) down on her luck who needs to become independent and better herself as a person(?). Quite a straightforward premise. (He wears a bunch of plaid in the show, he looks uncomfortable.)

Now. What I have noticed about Apo's career in supporting parts is that the male leads he supports are very...narrowly masculine, in comparison to him. Apo has talked about having faced homophobia/general cishet discriminatory nonsense in the industry at that time, and flicking through these shows really illuminates how rigid the concept of a lakorn romantic male lead was (maybe still is, I don't know). Obviously, I gathered that lakorn gender roles were a tad more conservative, but I still struggled slightly with understanding why Apo was treated the way he was, bc I feel like he is relatively conventionally masculine (my european perspective impacts my perception of what constitutes normative gender roles, I know) to the point where picking up on any ~queer~ vibes would be a gays only event. However, I feel like I get it a bit better now.

Apo is very handsome. He is also beautiful in a way that a lot of these leads aren't. They are pointedly conventionally masculine, not necessarily hypermasculine, but going towards that direction, something that is emphasised by their role in the narrative and acting style. Lots of stoicism and displays of quiet suffering and anger. I know, it's very reductive to place gendered presentations onto a spectrum etc etc, but if one were to operate within rigidly delineated binary requirements for gender presentation that exist in media (and society, there's nuance), Apo does not quite fit the criteria of a leading man within the given parameters. Which is terrible, of course. I can absolutely understand why Apo got fed up with the industry and decided to leave it all behind.

Additionally, as pointed out above with the repeated archetypal character traits, I feel that he did not get to flex his acting muscles in the narratives of these shows, which is another thing he has commented on, though maybe not in those words exactly.

Thinking about all of this makes his recent successes with Kinnporsche and Man Suang terribly interesting and delicious. I recognise that narrativising a celebrity's experiences as an affective story like this is mad parasocial brain rot behaviour, but the idea of him taking something that he was disparaged for earlier on in his career (perceived queerness) and turning it into a factor of him surpassing that which held him back is very attractive in a story sense. Like, what a triumph?

I'm not sure if any of this makes sense or if this is completely old news to everyone, but for some reason I had to get it out somewhere. I'll probably read this back in the morning and cringe mightily.

Anyway. What an interesting time to follow his advancement and the changes in the Thai BL industry, namely the increased attention from the government. I have fears, but I don't know how to articulate them yet. Therefore, I will focus on enjoyment for the time-being.

#apo nattawin #man suang #shine the series #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #mileapo

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stickthisbig · 10 days

Text

Look it was a really fuckin rough day and internet drama is what is keeping me afloat so here's some bullshit about Watcher

I don't want to talk about creative decisions. Creators deserve to be paid and TV costs a lot of money, and whether you think a TV model makes sense and reflects the brand's appeal is ultimately a matter of taste.

I want to talk about how much this fuckin thing costs.

If you are going to make a venture like this survive, you must aim at the money. I am the money. I'm financially independent and old enough to have kids who watch the show but have no income, I am a long-time BFU/Watcher fan who's splashed out for merch and a live show, and I've subbed to multiple similar services (RIP Alpha). I am the boring adult that you must convince, because I am the one who can pay for this without a second thought. You will not make it through this on the empty promises of children.

The closest comp to Watcher is not Dropout; it's Nebula. And trust me on this- they would prefer you to compare it to Dropout, because of how much better it makes them look. Compared on full prices (because you can almost always get a discount), Nebula costs half of what Watcher does, for a much, much larger catalog. I am a huge fan of Nebula. I've watched hundreds of hours on Nebula, because there is loads of varied content from creators who have expressed exactly the same wishes for creative freedom as the Watcher team.

And honestly, if we are gonna talk about comparisons to Dropout, you're never gonna be able to watch BFU on this service, so it's apples to oranges anyway.

I am certain that they will make more money percentage-wise through this service. It's not on me to care about their yield from youtube vs a dedicated streaming service vs a partnered streaming deal. That's not my job; I'm not their accountant or their dad. It's on me to look at value for money. I am not a charity, and when you put yourself up as a commodity, I'm gonna kick the tires and leave if I don't like the price.

I'm not going to pay $60 for this, or $42, or $6/month, because it's a bad value on my end. It is less content for more money. $30 still would have been too high, but there was a price point where I, the person with the intersection of money and interest, would have said yes. That is the trade-off: you can wait around forever for somebody to spend $60 and end up with $0, or you can get three people who balked in for $20 each and end up with $60.

Look, we're all friends here, we know the Watcher crew is not so damn dumb that they didn't look into joining an existing streaming service. It's not a fuckin grand revelation that there were potentially other options, and obviously they must have thought about this for longer than ten minutes. But when your service is MUCH more expensive than its closest comparison (Nebula) and the same price as the well-established competitor you'd like to be compared to (Dropout), why on god's green earth would you think I would buy it if I was anything short of obsessed? Where is your growth plan? How is this sustainable? The absolute best plan for me is to wait until the next series of Ghost Files is over, pay $6 to watch the whole series, then cancel again.

Also you're fuckin leaving money on the table by not having delayed VOD on youtube but at this point, that's none of my business.

If it's worth $60 to you and you've got the money, you do what's right for you. But I'm out. No hard feelings! But also no $60.

(Also I do think 100% saying that the back catalog will stay on youtube is a walkback and not what he said in the video, so like, watch that)

#watcher #anyway off to watch some nebula I think #oh yeah I forgot #most of nebula cross-posts to youtube anyway

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

Text

Angel of My Dreams.

PAIRING: Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,410.

SUMMARY: Aegon ii finds himself doubting his worthiness for your love and devotion, and yet you prove him otherwise.

WARNINGS: fatphiobic comments, low self-esteem, degradation, swearing, angst, fluff.

A/N - surely you knew this was coming lmao, I am obsessed and will die by the hill that chubby!aegon is in fact real. Siri play SZA Big Boyyyy. p.s let’s just pretend they’re all one big happy fam, and that Aegon ii is the one to inherit the throne.

Aegon, your dearest beloved, was perfection in your eyes. You’d both grown acquainted with one another mutually, and shared a mutual fondness and understanding with one another. Despite Aegon’s status in the realm, he was very much to himself, and unfortunately was known for having a notorious reputation amongst the ladies of the realm. What you’d heard through whispers and gossip, you found skeptical to believe, as Aegon showed a side to himself that you believed no other being saw. He was quite shy upon talking to you, after building the courage to introduce himself, and realising how warm you were, he opened up to you naturally.

You’d come to realise, that was never an easy case for Aegon. The expectations not only his family, however the entirety of the realm held on him was beyond fair. From the moment of his birth to the man he'd become today, he was criticised for absolutely everything, down to the last minute thing. Much to your dismay, even his appearance.

Most people had widely disapproved of how Aegon would present himself. Many agreed, that looking at Aegon’s physicality, no one would believe he'd be fit nor considered suitable to reign as King. Especially, when his younger brother, Aemond, had proved otherwise. When comparing the two sons, Aemond was favoured by the council.

Regardless, most of the time, comments like this often encouraged Aegon to look how he did.

“People have convinced themselves already that I am incompetent, why the need to disprove their claims?” He would succumb to. It took you what felt like a lifetime, for him to fight this battle, and yet you did the impossible.

For this, his mother, Alicent had noticed and took a great appreciation for your achievement.

Before you'd met Aegon, he sought and often bought the lust and attention from elsewhere, a frequenter to the Streets of Silk and the brothel houses that established themselves in the region. Much to your satisfaction, your existence also put an end to these needless trips.

Aegon would always exclaim how lucky he was to have found you, the angel of my dreams, he'd whisper into your ear late at night, as you wandered off to sleep in his strong, soft arms. He was aware of the terrible things he’d succumbed to since his youth, and having met you, you were the awakening of his regret.

“I do not deserve you, not in the slightest, but the Gods work in mysterious ways,” Aegon would proclaim.

And no matter the countless of times, you’d try to persuade him otherwise, that he saved you, it did not matter. His thoughts were set in stone, for he succumbed to pessimism since he could understand the meaning of words, as he was moulded to be the ‘perfect king’.

It was impossible, you’d believed. For everyone had flaws, you knew this and yet so much weighed on his shoulders regardless.

During the initial stages of your relationship with Aegon, he was weary of the nature of your affections. He struggled to decipher himself if they were genuine or had some hidden agenda, although you asked nothing of him ever. When he’d confront you of your love and intention with him, many a times you threatened to leave him if that's what it took, to the point where he stopped. At one point you held a grudge and offered silence, in return he followed you around every where pleading for forgiveness, as means to show that you did not care for any prize being with Aegon... Only that the love you as you did him.

In comparison, you’d questioned whether he merely saw you as a faint object of sex, not wanting anymore than a night of pleasure at his beckoning call.

It was hard to believe, the future King of Westeros would want you, and yet here you laid by his side from night to night, in return he never left nor neglected you.

Although, people allowed for their imagination to roam free, and had their own narratives created in their fickle minds of your relationship.

“Mayhaps the young prince has impregnanted her, trapped her with his godforsaken child. Gods be good, they spare us from another Aegon. Terrible, he did not inherit the good qualities of his predecessor who bears the same name.”

“It seems most likely, he has forced the poor girl’s hand in marriage, having taken her maidenhood without proper practice.”

Regardless, of the gossip whispered, the most agonising of it all, was how many commented how ill it seemed that a beauty such as yourself be seen with Aegon.

Over the years, Aegon much like his father to his resentment, was a larger man. Growing up spoilt and royal, he was offered the finest delicacies across the 7 Kingdoms, and he found indulgence as an escape. He had a terrible habit of being gluttonous with most things, whether it be food, wine or women, from his previous bachelor days. These habits had been hard to overcome, before he had stumbled upon the gratifying reason of you.

He found that, during the relentless and agonising dinners and feasts held, eating kept him busy, avoiding conversing with others both strange and familiar. Growing from child to a boy to now a young man, it was inevitable that his appetite grew to accustom his natural development.

Much to his distaste, he would continue to combat train, and much preferred riding Sunfyre for he was in his own company (still persistent in convincing you to join him), he remained fit and strong. Although, his edges were soft and tender, and you did not mind it one bit. It never even occurred to you, that there would be any matter in question, regarding how you both appeared to the general public. Their opinions meant absolutely nothing to you, and you remained ignorant to it all, although Aegon struggled as he always did. He was only ever accustomed to hearing criticism and scrutiny, and struggled to block it.

He had a subtle double chin that you would adorn with kisses, his arms muscular although hidden beneath a layer of fat, and his stomach plump and stout, protruded just a generous amount over the waistline, it was evident beneath his clothes. Although your favourite, was his legs, in particular his thighs. The way he'd prop you up, cradling you as you sat atop his solid build, his appearance was never questioned by you, and he knew that, no matter how much he’d deny it.

And yet, he found himself the hot topic of countless, discrete conversations, especially with the young knights and men of the realm. Many found your warmth and welcome compelling, and became infatuated with your beauty. You had gentle, soft features, your mother a renowned beauty herself in her youth, many found it no doubt you inherited her vision.

“I bet he’s somehow forced her into this godforsaken union. Needs a knight in shining armour to save her from that horrid, drunk beast.”

“He doesn't even try to stop himself nor fix his pathetic ways, have you seen the way he gorges himself? The poor girl must suffocate with him.”

“Mayhaps Y/N is smarter than we think, and is not actually in love with Aegon, for who could love a fat bastard like him, and to think in a few years he’ll be King.”

It infuriated him hearing such words, words from some men he’d thought he could entrust as friends. Once they'd come face to face, they would act as though no dishonesty was committed.

Treason, Aegon thought to himself. He'd made mental note of it all, and knew when the time was right, justice would be served by his own wroth.

Often at times, as means to retaliate, he’d appear with you publicly, whether it was kissing you in public, or merely holding hands, or insisting you feed him grapes or cakes to him as you sat ontop, he relished the bitter looks on their smug faces.

Ever since Aegon had met you, his confidence had grown, and he was eternally thankful. You’d become such a light for him, that he saw himself in a manner, most people denied him.

“You, you my sweet girl-”

Aegon would softly whisper, as he embraced you tightly in his large, tender arms, before releasing you. His hand reaching over to your face, placing a misplaced strand behind your ear, his thumb then gently tracing your lips.

“You are everything to me, I love you.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii x reader #chubby!aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #aemond targaryen #chubby!Aegon ii #alicent hightower

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